


A good thing

by becausenobreeches (crucibulis)



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Being Walked In On, Come Swallowing, Crying, Desk Sex, Dirty Talk, Dry Humping, Hair-pulling, Light Dom/sub, Lust Potion/Spell, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Rough Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 07:37:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6365140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crucibulis/pseuds/becausenobreeches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Right. Well. Taking a very potent sex potion in the middle of the tavern isn’t the worst idea they’ve ever had. There was that time they faced a darkspawn magister and an archdemon head on.</p><p>(has implied Adoribull, nothing major)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A good thing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heartsung](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartsung/gifts).



> Birthday present for heartsung! Voraan Lavellan is her baby.

The potion bottle fizzles at the center of the table, the cork removed so its enticing scent wafts into the air. It pulls at Voraan’s attention, making all the cheerful noises of the tavern fade away.

“Right,” Milo nods determinedly across from him, as if to convince himself. “So you’ll take half and I’ll take half.”

Right. Well. Taking a very potent sex potion in the middle of the tavern isn’t the worst idea they’ve ever had. There was that time they faced a darkspawn magister and an archdemon head on.

“Couldn’t we just take it when we got back to my room?” Voraan points out with a shrug.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Milo replies with a teasing smirk. “Come on. Everyone’s here. We’ll be able to make our way through the castle without anyone seeing us.”

Voraan quickly surveys the crowd. No one seems to be paying them much attention, too engrossed in whatever weird game Dorian and Sera are playing on the other side of the room. Now or never, he thinks, and grabs the bottle before he can think too much about it.

Knocking back half of the potion is no hardship; it tastes of orange and faint vanilla. It warms him from the inside out as it travels down his throat, sensual and sweet and smooth. He watches as Milo drains the rest of the bottle, and is suddenly very aware of the man’s lips, the way they’re flushed red as if they’ve already been kissing or sucking on his skin. A bit of the potion drips down onto the man’s chin, and Milo wipes it away with a finger as he meets Voraan’s gaze.

Voraan inhales sharply as it hits him, a sudden urge to dive across the table and straddle Milo’s lap and suck his finger dry. Milo must see it in his face, as he raises an eyebrow and studies him closely. “You alright?” his lover inquires.

Voraan just nods and grips the table, trying to find some semblance of control against the effects of the potion. He’s half hard already, but perhaps he can just breathe and pay attention to the suddenly very colorful room instead.

It hits Milo a second later. Voraan can see the exact moment that it does, his pupils blowing as he takes in a startled breath. His cheeks flush red. He looks at Voraan like he is something to be devoured.

“Whoa,” Milo comments, with all the eloquence of the well-seduced. He seems to have forgotten how to blink. “So um…” he tries and swallows hard.

Voraan knows he needs to say something, but the only phrases he seems to be capable of are variations of the words _fuck_ and _me_ and _NOW_. Instead, he takes a steadying breath, and a second for good measure.

Perhaps a third or fourth would not be remiss.

“Ready to go?” he manages, finally, and the words have barely left his lips before Milo is up from his chair and pulling him by the wrist up the stairs.

 

 

They’re supposed to be leaving the tavern. Voraan is fairly sure of this. They’re supposed to be /leaving/, not making out against the railing on the third floor. But with Milo pressed tight against him, firm muscles and hot breath, Voraan can’t really bring himself to care.

He throws his arms around Milo’s neck, lifting up on his toes, and the taller man pulls him closer with two hands on his arse, taking his mouth with bruising lips. Voraan’s erection drags against him and Milo /groans/, an almost devastated, longing sound. Pulls back just long enough for Voraan to see the dark look in his eyes before he’s spun around to face the railing and Milo presses against his back.

“Milo _please,”_ Voraan whispers over his shoulder, as if Milo’s hands weren’t already in his trousers and groping for his cock.

Milo traces the point of his ear with his tongue and glides his hand over Voraan with steady strokes, humming quietly at the slickness he finds at the tip. “Someone could come up here,” he reminds Voraan in a husky voice, the only thing about this that’s teasing.

Voraan snorts. “I hope that someone is _me,”_ he snarks, and is given a sharp nip on the ear for his troubles. He pushes back against Milo’s cock where it’s rubbing right against his arse, the liquid fire in his veins screaming at him to be as close as possible, to touch as much as possible. Milo wraps his other hand around to Voraan’s chest and holds him in place, giving him nothing to do but look down at the crowd.

“I would, you know,” Milo rasps in ear and squeezes, and Voraan is so close, _too close_ to catch his meaning.

“Nnh?”

“I’d fuck you with all of them watching. Let them see how beautiful you are when you’re all blissed out and full of my cock.”

“Fuck, Milo–” Voraan chokes and comes right then and there, writhing against Milo’s strong grip and shooting into his hand.

Then he’s twisting around to face Milo, certain that if he doesn’t kiss him right this instant that he will die. Milo chuckles against his mouth, as Voraan swings up so his legs lock around Milo’s waist. “You – hmm. You have some cleaning up to do,” Milo admonishes and puts his hand in Voraan’s face as they grind against each other.

Voraan eagerly laps up his own spend, letting out a little pleased-but-hungry-for-more grunt where he would usually moan around Milo’s fingers. Milo holds him up with one arm and practically dangles him over the railing as he thrusts his hips against Voraan like they’re fucking with clothes on, and Voraan can feel it rising up in him again, his cock swelling in time with the pounding of his heart.

“Milo,” he mumbles, just a twinge of fear where he hangs on two different kinds of edge.

“I got you, sweetheart. I – _oh fffuck!”_ Milo whispers and there’s a sharp stutter in his thrusts as he comes in his trousers, and Voraan is right there with him, a second orgasm less than a minute after the first.

“Well,” Milo says when they’ve recovered. “I see the potion works as advertised.”

He sounds far too pleased with himself. And maybe he should be, for Voraan is too far gone with pleasure and the want for more to respond with anything but a weak giggle.

“You up for more?”

“Mmm,” he nods. “But it’d be nice to take this somewhere with a bed.”

When he can finally focus on the other man’s face, Milo has a wicked gleam in his eye. “I know somewhere with a bed.”

 

 

Fairly certain I meant _my_ bed,” Voraan chides, but he’s allowing Milo to tug his trousers off his waist and down to his thighs all the same.

“Can’t wait,” Milo rasps into his ear, but Voraan feels his voice in his whole body, making him tremble with excitement where he’s bent over the bed. The potion is in full effect now, heightening his senses and causing errant colors on the edges of his vision. The blanket beneath him itches at his skin, a pleasant contrast to the hands smoothing over his stomach. “Need to fuck you. /Maker/ I want you so badly,” Milo growls and sinks his teeth into Voraan’s neck, making him yelp.

“Milo, please – _hurry.”_

“Where do you think Bull keeps the oil?” Milo ponders. But Voraan simply snaps his fingers and coats his fingers with fade-summoned slick.

“Here,” he says, reaching back to transfer the stuff to Milo.

“Oh thank the Maker,” Milo laughs. “Or… whichever deity the Dalish would attribute such a spell,” he adds with more sheepishness than a man fingering another man open should rightly be capable of.

Voraan opens his mouth to reply with something suitably provoking and sarcastic, but doesn’t get very far. “I – uh! – Fenhedis, just like that Milo _please!”_

“Oh yeah?” The tone in Milo’s voice is equal parts wonder and lust. He drives his fingers into that spot inside Voraan, the one that has him trembling and leaking fluid onto the Iron Bull’s sheets, until he’s sure something inside him is going to _break._

And then Milo goes still and Voraan _sobs._

“Shh, not yet, little one,” Milo says gently, but Voraan just whines at him, frustrated and incoherent. “I said _not yet,”_ Milo orders, suddenly stern, fingers digging bruises into Voraan’s hips.

It’s futile, Milo has to know that. With the potion still in control of both their bodies, there’s no way Voraan will be able to deny himself until Milo gives him permission. All that commanding growl in his voice serves to do is bring Voraan closer: his whole body throbbing and shaking with it, the lightest sheen of sweat accumulating on his neck and brow. Still, he tries to breathe, tries to obey as Milo slowly pushes inside him.

All that goes out the window a moment later when Milo begins thrusting and both of them come immediately, Milo with a teeth-gritted curse and Voraan with a relieved sigh. They ride through pulse after pulse of it before finally slumping onto the bed, Milo’s weight heavy above him, making him feel safe.

He can hear Milo’s embarrassment through the gasping breaths in his hair. The man probably doesn’t even realize he’s still hard.

“Keep going,” Voraan says where his face is now pushed into the blankets. The suggestion makes Milo twitch inside him, and oh… now he’s noticed. He pants like a horse in full gallop as he thrusts experimentally.

“Oh shit,” Milo whispers, though it seems more in the spirit of another grateful prayer. He pins both of Voraan’s wrists to the bed with one hand, and fucks him so hard the wooden bedframe begins to complain.

Voraan is too far gone to hold back his voice anymore, welcoming each of Milo’s thrusts with a little shuddering ‘uhh’ sound. Milo answers with his own quiet commentary, “Oh yes. Oh _fuck_ yes. Oh Maker. Shit, sweetheart you feel so good, _mercy…”_ and soon Voraan is lost in the rhythm of their voices and Milo fucking him into the bed.

That is, until the door opens.

“Oh shit,” Milo says, and this time it’s in alarm.

“What the –” Voraan hears the Iron Bull say, but he’s finding it increasingly difficult to be concerned when Milo is coming hard inside him and pushing him over the edge again.

In the next moment, Milo releases him and is quickly setting Voraan’s clothing to rights as the elf blearily brings his head up and meet’s the Iron Bull’s eye. The qunari is looming in his own doorway, but he looks more turned on than pissed. Which is a good thing for their friendship, but doesn’t do anything to quell the need still coursing through Voraan’s veins.

“What in the Void is going on in there?” he hears Dorian ask, his hair and eyes peeking over one of Bull’s biceps.

“Come on, let’s go!” Milo whispers urgently and begins dragging him away by the hand towards the opposite door. Voraan at least has enough presence of mind to turn back and cast a cleaning spell that will make the evidence of their activities disappear.

Only the Bull’s rumbling laughter follows them as they run out the door and onto the battlements. “Happy Birthday!” he calls, and Voraan smiles wide, filled with a warmth that not even the freezing winds can frighten away.

  
 

Behind the safety of Cullen’s office door (as if they were actually in danger of anything) they dissolve into hysterical giggles. Voraan buries his face in Milo’s shirt, holding on to him for dear life as he laughs uncontrollably, and it’s only made worse by the fact that Milo is doing the same. Minutes pass before he’s able to calm himself by breathing in the familiar scents of his lover.

Voraan looks up at him when he feels hands start to wander. Milo is red from all the laughter, and his hair is starting to come out of its signature bun. Voraan reaches up and pulls the tie out, and Milo smiles at him shyly as his hair cascades down to his shoulders.

“You alright?” Milo inquires.

Voraan leans up on his toes and answers with a kiss, which turns into several long minutes of lazy kissing and touching. The potion is still thrumming through his veins, but these few minutes of relative quiet are a welcome relief.

Milo pulls him in close and nuzzles into his hair, arms wrapped around him, strong and gentle. “How many is that for you?” he asks with a small laugh.

“I lost count,” Voraan admits. “Five, I think?”

“Only two – wait – three for me.”

“Hmm. Then we need to get you caught up then, don’t we?” Voraan muses, looking up at him with heavy-lidded eyes.

“Well, it’s _your_ birthday…” Milo argues, the slightest crease in his brow. “This is supposed to be about what _you_ want.”

“Then what I want, is to make you come apart.”

Milo giggles nervously, but allows himself to be pulled towards the center of the room, erection clearly straining through his trousers. “The Commander’s desk!” he snickers, bordering on scandalized.

“Mmhm,” Voraan answers, and positions him against the edge. Another quick kiss to his mouth, and then he drops to his knees.  
He’s focusing on getting Milo’s cock out, and tamping down his own arousal when he feels a hand slightly brush through his hair. “Hey.”

He stills and looks up at Milo, leaning back on his heels as if awaiting instructions. It seems Milo is pleased by what he sees, his face lighting up in a fond smile as he strokes Voraan’s face. “I love you,” he says, just loud enough to be heard over the wind blowing through the hole in the commander’s roof.

Voraan smiles, and answers this with a soft, wet kiss to the head of his cock. Before taking it in his mouth completely, he pulls upon the Fade and focuses on making his mouth extra cold.

“Oh, Maker,” Milo gasps reverently, hand tightening in Voraan’s hair. Voraan begins tugging his trousers down off his arse as he sucks him, pulling on the Fade more to summon more slick into his hand.

Before he can even act on his plan, though, Milo is letting out a small shout and shooting into his mouth, a few hot spurts that Voraan struggles to swallow. Milo is still hard in his mouth, though, so Voraan just reaches a hand behind and looks up, asking permission to keep going with his lips wrapped around the base of Milo’s cock.

Milo just looks down and nods urgently, hands now gripping the edge of the desk so his knuckles are white. Damn, he’s a picture, Voraan thinks, with his hair falling in his face and his sculpted chest heaving. Slightly disheveled is a good look on him, but Voraan did promise to make him come completely undone.

He’s not exactly gentle with his fingers, quickly working in a first and then a second, and oh, he’d forgotten just how brilliantly Milo responds to this, how he practically tries to fuck himself on Voraan’s hand. A third finger, and once Milo starts locking up with the intense pleasure of /that/ spot, and desperately chanting, “there, there oh right _there,”_ Voraan unleashes his secret weapon.

Just the slightest bit of magic. Nothing really, just enough to make Milo’s insides _tingle._

Milo shouts properly, head thrown back so his voice echoes through the space around them. Voraan waits a moment, and when Milo makes no protest, he does it again.

“Oh fuck!” Milo sobs. “Oh sweet and blessed bride of the Maker preserve me!”

Well, that’s a new one. Voraan pulls off with a pop, and he knows before he even tries to speak that his voice will be too wrecked to be viable for dry humor. “So was that a _good_ thing? Or –”

“Oh, by the grace of the Maker, _please_ don’t stop!”

Things happen quickly after that. Voraan sucks him as earnestly as he can while controlling his magic to be just enough but not too much.  
Eventually, Milo get impatient and just grabs his hair and takes over, so Voraan can just focus on casting and keeping his mouth open for Milo to fuck into. When Milo comes this time, he roars, voice cracking as he swears and cries to his Maker and finally settles for just murmuring Voraan’s name.

Voraan blinks up at him, his eyes watering a bit from being so well used. He’s sure his kohl is running, but that alright. It’s very much worth it to see Milo like this, and he lifts up to his feet to get a better look.

Voraan’s heart skips a beat for what he sees. Milo blinks at him, eyes red and watery, a few tears already streaked down his cheeks. He gives Voraan a helpless look which has him cradling Milo’s face before he even realizes what he’s doing, his own arousal completely forgotten.

“Are you okay?”

Milo just sniffles and nods, pressing his cheek into Voraan’s palm. “It was just… really intense.”

“Yeah,” Voraan agrees, gently wiping away a tear with his thumb. A few moments pass where the only sound is Milo trying to pull himself together. “I think we’ve had enough fun for one evening,” Voraan declares affectionately.

Milo reacts with a wet laugh. “We didn’t even make it to your bed!”

“I have no regrets,” Voraan says, beaming as he casts a dispel on both of them that will free them from the effects of the potion.

“So…” Milo starts with another sniffle. “Bed now?”

Voraan leans up for another kiss. Milo’s lips tremble against his own, and he knows he made the right call. “Yes, ma vhenan. Let’s go to bed.”

 


End file.
